


Justice and the Magician

by NiteWrighter



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Enchanted Armor Fareeha "Pharah" Amari, F/F, Magician Symmetra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 02:10:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18306053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiteWrighter/pseuds/NiteWrighter
Summary: Satya Vaswani is a magician at a now-condemned theater. When she returns one night to say goodbye to her beloved performance space, she finds a lot more magic than expected.A Fic written for Law & Order: A Symmarah Fanzine.





	Justice and the Magician

The Empress Theater lived up to its name, a beautiful art deco-style building with intricate teal and gold neon signage. Elegant pseudo-Greek pilasters towered up towards the top of the building, where they met the scalloped edges of the roof. The Empress was the crown jewel of downtown, once upon a time.

 

Satya pocketed her hands, watching a burly teamster tape a ‘CONDEMNED’ sign in the window as the sun lowered. She inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her mouth.

 

“Don’t feel bad, Satya,” Halfred put a hand on her shoulder, “If anything, you and the historical society made the place last five years longer than it should’ve... But if it’s gotta go, it’s gotta go.” 

 

Her eyes flicked to the poster featuring her tapping a silk top hat with a magic wand and smiling, the words “THE STUPENDOUS SYMMETRA” emblazoned beneath her.

 

“Look, if anything this is opening new doors for you—You can start touring full-time now, don’t have to worry about this old place…”

 

Satya lowered her head, her lips thin.

 

“I’m not making you feel better, am I?” asked Halfred, “I getcha—this place was your first big break.”

 

“It’s not that,” Satya started, and then cut herself off, “It’s partially that…”

 

“What else?” said Halfred.

 

“…you’re going to think it’s silly,” said Satya.

 

“Satya, you’ve spent nine years in that weird tuxedo leotard saving my ass and sawing audience members in half. Nothing you could say would make me lose respect for you.”

 

“I always felt like most of the magic was this place itself,” said Satya, brushing a hand against one of the bas-reliefs framing the window.

 

“Okay, Merlin,” said Halfred, snickering. 

 

Satya rolled her eyes. “I said you would think it’s silly—”

 

“No, I get it,” said Halfred, “There’s a warmth to places like this. Like this love that’s sunken into every support beam.”

 

Satya smiled.

 

“Unfortunately, love can’t magically fix eight decades of dry rot and water damage, so…” Maximilien sidled up next to them. Satya’s eyes flicked to Halfred, who gave her a pleading look. Maximilien had given Halfred an offer he couldn’t refuse on the Empress.

 

“‘So’ indeed,” said Satya, folding her arms. She did her best to maintain her composure and not glare at the Empress’s buyer. Everything about Maximilien screamed  _ “I’m going to replace this theater with a soulless high-rise.” _

 

“They’re saving the neon sign, at least - city council didn’t say where it’s going yet,” Maximilien continued, “And the historical society is going to save some of the exterior bas-reliefs and—”

 

“They’re stripping her,” Satya blurted out.

 

“It’s not a ‘her,’ Satya,” said Halfred.

 

_ She’s the Empress, _ Satya thought, but she sounded mad enough without insisting on calling the building ‘she.’ She felt Maximilien’s eyes on her. She hated that cool regard, the way he made her feel like an insect to be studied. So instead she mumbled out, “I know, I know. Sorry…”

 

“Like I said, ‘New Doors,’” said Halfred, shrugging.

 

“Mm,” Satya gave a slight nod.

 

“So… any idea where the Stupendous Symmetra is going to go next?” asked Halfred.

 

“Well… I suppose as you said, I can focus more on touring now,” she answered vacantly.

 

“See? There you go! The easiest way to move on is to move on, am I right?”

 

Satya nodded.

 

*

 

That night, Satya lay in bed, staring at the ceiling of her apartment.

 

_ The easiest way to move on is to move on.  _ The words spun in her head as her eyes fixed on the steady every-90-seconds blink of her smoke detector.  _ Move on. You have to let the old place go. You have to. New doors. Tour dates. New management? New costume? Don’t like the way Maximilien looks at me. Have to keep the top hat but is the leotard too tacky? Is the theater closing because you stuck with the leotard? No, that leotard bought the theater more time— _

 

And then another voice in her head, small, tired, but firm that voice that said _ “She’s the Empress.” _

 

_ You never got to say goodbye. _

 

She remembered the spotlights on her, how their buzz and her microphone barely managed to drown out her frantic heartbeat. She remembered the deer-in-the-headlights look of every ‘assistant’ she pulled from the audience; the way they looked out into the blackness of the theater, searching, before their eyes found her, a guiding star in the desert of stage and sea of darkness. And she’d smile. 

 

Everyday Satya was awkward. Said odd things. Got distracted. The Stupendous Symmetra was  _ powerful _ , beautiful, and able to hold the audience’s attention with little more than a word and a gesture.

 

And the Empress was where the Stupendous Symmetra was born.

 

An hour later, Satya found herself facing the ‘Condemned’ sign, in nothing but her pajamas and shoes. She hurried past the main entrance. 

 

“This is ridiculous,” she hissed to herself, “And dangerous, and you were supposed to give your spare key back, and— ”

 

Satya opened the door to the old theater and in one breath of its mustiness, the fear, grief, doubt and self-criticism quieted. She flicked a light on (at least the electric still worked.) 

 

She flipped the switch for the scallop shell footlights, then peeked through the red velvet curtains to see yellow light spilling across the floor of the stage. Satya flipped another switch and the dim pre-show lights lining the theater walls lit up a warm yellow as well. She pushed out from the curtains and her slippers padded across the stage. She had done her share of rehearsals here, but she still made a point of rehearsing in her heels and hat just to be aware of how she moved. She felt much smaller on the stage now, but somehow she was fine with that. 

 

Her eyes trailed over the theater. She’d only come for one last look, but seeing it glow with all its warm lights, smelling the curtains and the backstage area, made bitterness surge up from the pit of her stomach. Why would anyone want to tear down something so beautiful?

 

“Eight decades of dry rot, indeed,” she scoffed, crossing the stage. The natural acoustics making her voice drift over the seats, “Maximilien  _ must _ have made a deal with the city and—“

 

She fell through the stage. She let out a loud squawk which was cut short by an “Oof!” as she landed half on her feet before she fell onto her butt. She was in darkness, with the hole in the stage overhead serving as her spotlight. She pulled her phone from her coat pocket and turned the flashlight on, looking around. It was a low crawl space area, and she saw a musty old mattress a ways away. The stage’s trapdoor had been sealed off some time ago, but it was once the point where ‘dying’ or ‘disappearing’ actors would’ve dropped through, which meant there was obviously a way out. 

 

“You were stupid enough to get yourself into this, Satya,” she muttered, having to duck down since the crawl space beneath the stage wasn’t tall enough for her full height, “You can get yourself ou—AUGH!”

 

She fell through the floor again, then stopped short for a few panicking moments as her jacket caught on something. She slipped out of her jacket and fell in a heap of molding old boxes of practically-mulch playbills. She was in near-pitch black now, the faint yellow from the stage an entire floor above and her own now-cracked phone were her only sources of light. Coughing in all the dust, Satya rolled off the collapsed heap of cardboard, picked up her phone, and looked around. First above, to where her jacket hung on what appeared to be a tree set piece, then around the blackness of what seemed to be a storage basement.

 

“This is odd,” Satya murmured, standing up, “I thought we cleaned out all the storage roo—”

 

As soon as she put weight on her ankle she winced and flailed her arms briefly, regained her balance, and put most of her weight on one foot. She shined her phone’s flashlight downward and pulled up the cuff of her pajama pants to see her own ankle bruised and swelling.

 

“Oh, now you’ve done it…” she muttered, “Of all the stupid—” 

 

She wasn’t sure if it was the pain that was finally putting her over the edge, or the rush of adrenaline from falling through two floors but she felt tears welling up, stinging and hot, before she tamped them back down. “Oh- pull yourself together!” 

 

There was a rattling sound and she flinched hard, nearly dropping her flashlight. She shuddered at the thought that there might be something else alive down in this dismal place.

 

“It’s just a rat,” she told herself, as if rats were her best option.

 

There was another noise in another pile of debris and she flinched again. It rattled again, louder, and enough to shift a large cardboard box. Her breath caught in her throat.  _ Stairs,  _ she thought,  _ There has to be a way out of here… _

 

She scanned around the room with the flashlight, but there came another rattling. “Just a rat…” she said as there was another shuffle sounded from the other side of the room. She took in a sharp inhale and searched the room, the light of her flashlight casting eerie shadows wherever it trailed. 

 

“I’m not afraid of you! So just… stop skulking around!” She squeezed her eyes shut, “Oh pull yourself together,” she said to herself again.

 

A metallic glowing shape shoved itself up from the rubbish and shot across the room. She shrieked and covered her head as it whizzed past, making her hair rifle behind it. Another larger hunk of metal, silvery, yet shrouded in an aquamarine fog, shot up as well. 

 

Both pieces jerked to a stop not far in front of her. She took a wary step back, the hovering metal making her forget her ankle pain. She stumbled onto her behind as more metal shapes flew about the room, spiraling around the large, almost heart-shaped metal shell at its center. 

 

She was clumsily half-crab-walking back when the final piece, a gold-filigreed helmet, planted itself above the center piece. Satya was fixed in place at the mere sight of it, feeling terribly exposed in her pajamas and staring up at a figure suspended in the air by that aquamarine fog.

 

_ Armor,  _ she realized, _ It’s an empty suit of armor. _

 

And then the armor spoke. “You have called me, my lady.”

 

Its voice was partially the reverberation of metal, a songlike thrum - clear and commanding - but feminine.

 

Satya made a confused, half-aborted scream.

 

The suit of armor dropped to one knee. “I am at your service, great sorceress.”

 

“Great-g-great—“ Fumbling over her words, Satya shut her eyes, “You’re going crazy-you-you hit your head falling down here- you hit your head and you’re hallucinating and—“

 

“You are injured, my lady?” The voice made Satya open her eyes. The suit of armor tilted its helmet, then caught sight of her swollen ankle. It made a noise that would have been a gasp, but it was more like wind sharply drawn through the metal frame. 

 

The suit of armor lunged forward, Satya flinched back, “My lady!” it cried out in alarm.

 

“I-it’s nothing-you don’t have to—” Satya stammered but the armor scooped her up in its strong (could you call it strong if it was empty?) arms and stood up, holding her bridal style. “…Ah,” Satya squeaked.

 

“Forgive my forwardness, but this is not the place for a sorceress of your regard,” said the suit, carrying her over to the hole  Satya had fallen through.

 

“Wait—“

 

“Keep your head tucked,” the armor instructed her. Satya tucked her phone into her pajama’s breast pocket, curled and shrunk inward. The massive pauldrons of the armor’s shoulders punched the holes in the floor even wider as the suit leapt up the hole to the under-stage crawlspace, then up to the stage itself.

 

“There!” the armor said, pleased with itself. They both froze at the sound of wood groaning underneath them and the armor suit hurried off the stage to the dark of the backstage, where there was no risk of falling. It was lit only by the blue glow of whatever was animating the armor, and a narrow ribbon of light slicing in from a gap in the curtains.

 

“You-you’re…How did… what are…” Satya’s words kept fading into the shadows as the suit of armor gently lowered her to the floor. It still stooped forward, allowing Satya to keep her hands on its pauldrons, keeping the weight off of her swollen ankle.

 

“What I am, is a guardian,” said the armor, “As to  _ who _ I am, you may call me Fareeha.” She took off the helmet in salute but there was no head beneath it, only that same seafoam-colored fog.

 

“Ah….” Satya nodded hesitantly. The headless suit of armor was jarring, but after some moments of adjustment, she was getting more used to it. 

 

“So you’re…” she peered down the gorget into the interior of the breastplate, seeing only a swirling mass of aquamarine sparkles and mist.

 

“A woman? My physical body was human, yes. You may continue to address me as so, though,” the suit of armor chuckled, “I’m afraid you won’t be able to see much no matter how much you look.”

 

Satya immediately broke her eyes away from down the gorget, “Sorry!” she stammered, “I didn’t mean to—” Satya paused, “Did you say you were human once?”

 

Fareeha set her helmet back on her gorget and nodded. “A long time ago,” the glow of the armor faded sadly, “Very long ago. I’m afraid I don’t remember the circumstances of my binding to this form…” the pauldrons of the suit of armor drooped, then perked up, the fog brightening, “But perhaps you can! You are a great Sorceress, after all!”

 

“Just where are you getting ‘great sorceress’ from?” asked Satya, putting her hands on her hips.

 

“Are you not the Stupendous Symmetra who awes people with her feats of cleverness and magic Friday nights from 8 to 9:30?”

 

Satya’s face dropped. “I beg your pardon?”

 

“I heard your addresses to the crowd these nine years past,” said Fareeha, “I recognized your voice the moment you called to me down in the basement. You are the Stupendous Symmetra. I knew of your power but not your beauty.”

 

“I-I…”Satya’s face was burning and she was fidgeting with her hair as she avoided eye contact with a suit of armor without eyes, “There’s been a misunderstanding, I’m not...  _ really _ the Stupendous Symmetra,” said Satya.

 

“Oh obviously. When one deals in magic, giving one’s true name away is dangerous,” said Fareeha with a nod.

 

Satya’s mouth was hanging open. “Oh—” she pressed her fingers to her forehead, “How to explain-I’m an—”

 

Satya was cut off by a loud and heavy  _ ka-chunk _ of the backstage door slamming and she gasped.

 

“Hide,” she whispered to Fareeha.

 

“But your ankle—” 

 

“This whole thing is complicated enough without…” Satya gestured up and down at Fareeha, “You! I can handle this!”

 

“Of course, my lady,” Fareeha whispered before slipping off into the darkness, her light fading.

 

“Who’s there?” a deep gravelly voice spoke, “Who the hell-why are the lights—?”

 

“It’s fine!” Satya stepped forward, turning on her cell flashlight and illuminating her own face, “I had a spare key and I was … making sure I didn’t leave anything behind.”

 

“…In your pajamas. At three AM,” said the man. He towered over her easily. She recognized him: the burly teamster from earlier.

 

“Well yes, I just thought—” Satya caught herself, “What are  _ you _ doing here?”

 

“This building isn’t safe,” he said, “You should leave.”

 

Satya furrowed her brow, then shone her flashlight on the man. He grunted and shielded his eyes. Satya saw the red gallon of gasoline in his other hand.

 

“What-what are you—?” she stammered.

 

“This building’s not safe,” the man repeated, stepping toward her.

 

“Maximilien sent you, didn’t he?” asked Satya, stepping back, “You’re… you’re going to burn this place down.”

 

“Old building like this? Electrical fires happen all the time.”

 

“You can’t burn this place down! The city historical society still has to—”

 

“We’re not waiting three months so city hall can take down a crappy neon sign and some frescoes.”

 

“So Maximilien did send you!”

 

“As if he’s enough of an idiot to do this himself.”

 

“No,” Satya attempted to stand tall but instantly winced at putting weight on her ankle, “I-nnh—I won’t let you.”

 

“You’re the crazy lady from the posters, right? The magician? What are you going to do: Launch a flock of doves at me? Pull a string of scarves out your mouth?”

 

Satya’s lip quivered as her hands tightened into fists at her side. “You can’t do this.”

 

“Y’know, people get hurt in these old buildings all the time, it would be a shame if anything—”

 

A steel gauntlet shrouded in aquamarine light, its fingers curled into a fist, collided hard into his face with a satisfying  _ whok _ and shot back off into the darkness.

 

Satya was surprised his jaw wasn’t broken.

 

“What…?” His lip was split and his cheek was swelling, “What the hell was that?”

 

“Uh… what are you talking about?” asked Satya, not ready to admit,  _ ‘I fell through the floor and found an animated suit of armor that is sworn to my service’.  _

 

“Don’t play dumb, You got a little goon friend here with you throwing things? What the hell—“ the man took a step toward her.  A sabaton and attached greave hurtled out from the darkness and kicked him hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He buckled over and Satya suppressed a nervous, giddy giggle. Another gauntlet shot out from the other side of the room and smacked him hard across the other cheek. “How many friends you got here!?”

 

Satya felt a tap on her shoulder and looked to see the other gauntlet hovering in the air. It gave a small wave, then a thumbs up. Satya’s eyes widened.

 

The gauntlet zipped off back into the shadows as the man coughed, and Satya turned her attention back to him.

 

“There’s nobody here but you and I,” said Satya, dusting down the front of her pajamas and straightening her posture. She wasn’t lying. Technically speaking, Fareeha wasn’t a ‘body.’

 

“This is you,” he said, a new fear overtaking his voice as he staggered up. “You’re doing this—” the sabaton and greave kicked him hard in the rear and sent him sprawling once again. 

 

“ _ How _ are you doing this?!” 

 

There was a beat and a suddenly a flutter of thrill flared up in Satya’s chest. “A Magician,” she said with all the gravitas she could muster, “Never reveals her secrets.”

 

“What?” the man wiped blood from his lip.

 

“I suggest you take your gasoline and leave,” said Satya, lifting her chin up and gesturing gracefully with her fingers like the Stupendous Symmetra would, “This building will be demolished, but it will be demolished through the proper channels. After its most beloved features are preserved for the whole city, as planned.  You can tell Maximilien that as well.”

 

“Y-You’re crazy!“ he stammered.

 

“I’m the Stupendous Symmetra,” said Satya, lifting her hand up. Perfectly on cue, Fareeha’s gauntlet slid onto it and glowed. Satya flicked and rolled her fingers within the gauntlet before giving a glance back down at the man, “And you have no idea what I’m capable of.”

 

He stumbled to his feet and sprinted out of the theater. Satya waited in silence as she heard a car start, then veer off down the street. The after-the-fact adrenaline of the whole situation hit Satya like a truck. She exhaled hard and stumbled on her swollen ankle before falling back into Fareeha’s grasp.

 

“We-we scared him off!” a manic laugh escaped Satya, “We did it!”

 

She grabbed Fareeha’s helmet and pulled it toward her, squeezing her eyes shut and kissing the visor. She opened her eyes and realized she’d taken the helmet off and blinked in surprise, “Oh right, sorry… that’s… your head… I’ll just…” 

 

She set the helmet back in place, “There.” Satya tucked her hair back, “You were incredible.”

 

“I was merely fulfilling my duty,” said Fareeha, “It was you who struck  _ true _ fear into him.”

 

Satya scoffed, “Bluffing and misdirection; I’m afraid that’s all my magic is. That’s what I was trying to tell you. I’m just an entertainer.”

 

“I find that doubtful,” said Fareeha, taking Satya’s un-armored hand and touching her knuckles to the visor of her helmet in a kiss-like gesture.

 

“We can debate it when we’re out of here,” said Satya, smiling.

 

“Agreed,” said Fareeha. She gestured at the gauntlet on Satya’s hand with her own arm, now a stub trailing off into a wisp of smoke, “I’m going to need that back first, though.”


End file.
